


A Neat and Tidy Affair

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: 'Neat and Tidy', that was the way they'd think about it in the years to come.  A neat and tidy plot, that went unexpectedly askew with just a few injudicious words.  A neat and tidy villain, whose plans unraveled under his spider-like fingertips faster than he could re-weave them.  A neat and tidy finish, no loose ends, no (well, only a few) unanswered questions, everything solid, well-documented.  How could such a neat and tidy affair leave such bad memories?





	A Neat and Tidy Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there is some remaining ambiguity about the mysterious visitor; it is intentional. Enjoy the speculation! Of course, both Albert Fish and Gilles de Rais were real historical figures, unlike the others in the story; research at your own risk and only if you have a strong stomach!

The incident was of such little importance he'd forgotten it by the time he got back to his car if not before. After all, Lieutenant Craig Garrison had a lot on his mind. Here he was in Oxford at the small but elegant manor home of Lord Randolph Dudley, summoned out of the blue by General Wattley for a special clandestine meeting with those who supposedly had information on a cell of fifth columnists trying to subvert two members of the House of Lords, brothers and neither in too much favor of the war. It had been a wild-goose chase, to all appearances, and it turned out that Lords Charles and Raymond Klessner, while not in favor of many of the government's policies, WERE staunchly loyal to their country. They might not be in favor of this war, but if their country MUST go to war, there was no question whose side the brothers would be on.

His mind had been on that, but also on his team, unsupervised in London on a two day pass. He'd intended to stay in the area to keep a wary eye on his rascals, he and Sergeant Major Rawlins, until he'd been snatched away to dash up to Oxford. He only hoped the fact that they'd had to leave had gone unnoticed by the guys, since he thought that the knowledge of his presence in the area might put somewhat of a curb on their inventiveness, if not their enthusiasm.

And late that night, when he got to Hotel Marchant where the team was staying, the presence in the hotel room of one Maxie Chalmers, a rather disgruntled ex-pugilist by his appearance, along with the presence of the elegantly dressed if somewhat oddly accessorized Meghada O'Donnell, well, that put any lingering thought of that little invitation right out of his mind.

He'd dealt with the odd starts and vanities of the aristocracy and socialites long enough now that an unsolicited invitation by Lord Dudley's valet as to whether he, "might not like to step into the gallery and view our Lordship's fine collection of blue ware; he's heard you have similar interests," didn't even cause a flicker of suspicion, only a polite "thank you, but no; I'm late for an appointment," and he'd been in enough of a hurry not to notice the rather puzzled, then alarmed look in the valet's eyes.

He'd already gone by the time Lord Dudley's butler had come up behind and said, "he didn't come. Why not?"

The valet just shrugged, his bewilderment equalling that of the valet. "He never even blinked, as if he hadn't any idea what I was talking about."

Later, when they realized they'd approached the wrong man, should have been making that invitation to General Wattley's aide, also a tall blond young man, they panicked and decided they had to deal with the situation, immediately.

 

*

In the opinion of one Gil Rawlins, it was mere luck neither of them was severely injured, and he meant to have a stern word with the maintenance staff. That jeep had been checked out only a week ago as scheduled, and no faults had been detected on the report and the jeep left in service, yet today, on that sharp downward curve going past Farnham, the brakes had failed miserably, the axle snapped and sent the jeep over the edge of that deep gulley leading down into an even deeper lake. The tree that stopped them before reaching the bottom probably saved their lives, though it put paid to the jeep once and for all. Gil had a split head and a cracked wrist; the Lieutenant, a wrenched shoulder and probably a couple of cracked ribs. Neither had much relished the hard climb back up to the road, or the long walk to the nearest residence where they could get help, and the shotgun held by that worthy inhabitant while they explained their presence on the old man's front porch hadn't added to their pleasure. The maintenance crew were adamant, however, that there had been no visible trouble during the inspection, pulled the records to show every item checked and annotated, and the Sergeant Major had the jeep hauled back to the Mansion for a look-see because, well, just because. He didn't abide with carelessness by his men, nor negligence, but he was a fair man and wouldn't condemn them without doing some looking of his own.

"Cut, they were, Lieutenant, no doubt. No break happens that clean from wear. Now, whether it was deliberately done, or whether you went over something sharp that reared up and did the job, that I can't say. Though don't see how both brake line AND axle could have happened together, specially without you hearing something. Brake line could have quiet enough, I suppose, with the road noise, but that axle should have made a huge clatter! But new cuts, that I could see, not something there for the crew to have overlooked when it was checked out a week ago along with the other equipment. I can show you what I mean if you like."

Private Jenkins was trustworthy and he'd had Private Perkins who knew more than a mite about motor cars helping him in his efforts, and Garrison and the Sergeant Major had no reason to doubt his conclusion. Orders were given to keep the equipment under tighter guard, no one leaving anything unattended for someone to get up to mischief with; no one minded that, and frankly were glad the Sergeant Major hadn't handed out punishment just to tidy up the mess; well, the guards and staff knew there were many non-coms and officers alike who would have done just that. They were lucky in their Sergeant Major; they'd remarked on that among themselves more than once.

Garrison hadn't bothered even thinking whether his guys had been involved; there was mischief, and there was malicious mischief - two quite different things and he knew where his men drew the line.

The taxi that almost ran down Garrison and three others in the broad streets outside HQ was going too fast for anyone to get a number, and besides the rear of the vehicle had been liberally smeared with mud.

"Craig, have you made any enemies lately? Perhaps danced with the wrong woman? Broken up the wrong poker game? Talked back to the wrong nincompoop at HQ?" Actor asked him, with a puzzled look on his face.

Garrison was soaking in a deep bath, his gold blond hair much darker now, being wet from its fervent scrubbing; he hadn't been hurt other than a few new bruises, but that gutter had been rather nasty after a week of rain and lack of sweeping; his uniform was a disaster and currently in the capable hands of the staff of Hotel Marchant.

"Made enemies? Well, no more than usual," he quipped, "unless you count me making Goniff hand back that cigarette case. What on earth gets into him?" he asked in some exasperation, letting his mind wander to their resident pickpocket, as it tended to do at odd moments, much to the officer's considerable bemusement.

Actor chuckled, "like Everest, it was there, it sparkled, so he simply had to try for it, Craig. I truly think he cannot control the impulse. And he hardly blames you for it, you know. Oh, a little disappointed at losing his prize, but cheerful enough about it."

"Well, it's going to get him into trouble one of these days," Garrison grumbled, then realized what he had just said, and gave a wry grin, and rephrased, "get him into trouble AGAIN one of these days."

"Indeed, we were lucky that the General bought the story about his leaving it on that table, and you seeing and returning it to him," Actor acknowledged the truth of that statement. He frowned now, thinking, "do you really think that was an accident today? I know you said it was, but this is the second 'accident' in less than a week, you know."

"I've been thinking about that, but can't see any reason anyone would want to get me out of the way."

"Well, I do think some extra caution might be in order, and a heads-up to the team. It will do no harm to have extra eyes on you."

Garrison gave a skeptical look at his second-in-command, "just as long as they don't get carried away and tackle somebody just stopping by to say 'hello'; you know how they get," and the two of them chuckled together. Yes, they both knew how the men got! Enthusiasm often surged three steps before objective thought and consideration.

 

*

When all their activities failed to achieve the desired effect of shutting Lieutenant Garrison's mouth for good, and it appeared now his men were constantly between them and their target, they admitted to each other that they were totally out of their depth, and contacted their employer, (well, their OTHER employer), telling him the whole story.

While he was not pleased, of course, the mistake was understandable; even their delay in reporting the matter to him was understandable. Their efforts to rectify their error showed some solid initiative, which he appreciated in theory, if not in fact, since they hadn't been nearly as neat and tidy about the matter as he would have preferred. It was, of course, regrettable that their efforts to silence Garrison had failed. The failed contact with the intended recipient at the manor house was most disappointing and the subsequent delay rather threw off the whole timetable; most untidy.

The housebreaking that occurred at Lord Dudley's manor house was noted in the papers, along with the regrettable deaths of Lord Dudley's valet and butler in their valiant attempts to roust the intruders, who apparently had been after a rather lovely Tintoretto, now missing and being reported to the insurance company as stolen. A mere coincidence, of course, but one that rather tidied up the manner, at least in the gentleman's viewpoint. He did appreciate tidiness, and intended to tip his own valet quite handsomely for ensuring that any messiness was cleared away without undue comment. He was most pleased that his valet had been able to set up another meeting with that rather enterprising young man in the War Office. Yes, soon everything would be all neat and tidy once again.

In his apartment, David Messler, Peer of the Realm, holder of any number of inherited and bestowed titles, scion of a rich and well-reputed family with a history going back to William the Conqueror, leaned back in his luxurious tufted leather armchair, sipping a glass of really fine Napoleon brandy, gazed at that finely detailed painting by Tintoretto now gracing his mantle, and pondered the situation.

It was all a question of whether that young American Lieutenant would come to realize there had been something odd in that invitation, whether he mentioned it to someone who knew that Lord Dudley didn't collect blue ware; whether he heard of that housebreaking and the deaths and made a connection. Apparently he had not done so thus far. He was rather disappointed in those two anyway; why hadn't they said 'miniatures' or 'stickpins' or something that that fool Dudley DID collect! He wondered just how they would have handled it if Garrison HAD gone along with them, only to find no blue ware but two men confiding what he would surely see as treasonous ideas. Such fools! Garrison could so easily have tipped to them right then and there! And still might, if he sat down to think about it, and if he went back to talk to them, only to find them dead 'by mischance'.

Messler studied the flicker of the reflected firelight in the glass, sighed, and decided that while there was really only a faint chance of any of that happening, still, too much was riding on this to ignore the risk. {"In the morning. That's soon enough to consider what steps to take,"} he thought to himself, finished his brandy and went to bed, to sleep the sleep of, if not the just, at least one reasonably well satisfied with himself. Just before he dropped off, he had a rather cunning idea, and he smiled to himself. He did so enjoy making a task serve more than one purpose; so efficient! And occasionally, quite profitable.

 

*

"General Karl Ravensbraun, slated to become one of Germany's high command, provided he watches his step over the next couple of months. It is imperative that he be discredited before that happens, discredited or induced to defect, failing that, eliminated. We have reason to believe he will be amenable to a deal, a deal which we want you to approach him with. If he is not, well, you will proceed with one of the other options, in the order presented, please. He is usually under very heavy guard, his movements kept quite secret. However, we have obtained information that he is headed for a meeting in Andorra, a tiny state between France and Spain. We do not know the purpose of the meeting, but know the dates and the location of the meeting. The owner of the estate where the meeting is to take place is an English expatriate who settled there after marrying a member of the local aristocracy, well, such as it is."

That typically rather snobbish remark by Major Kevin Richards caused a flicker of a smile on Garrison's face; he often thought it was rather up for grabs which could get more top-lofty, Richards or Actor.

"He is willing to help, bring you and Actor in as guests, friends of friends of friends; your team will go in as members of his household since they could hardly carry out the charade necessary to mix with the other guests. You will go in by submarine to here," pointing at a spot on the map. "We do not have underground contacts there, but Saunders, the expatriate, will arrange to have a truck waiting there; the driver can be trusted. You will be brought to the outskirts of the estate; your men will go on in by truck, you and Actor will switch to a car and approach by the front way. Exit will be made the same way, pickup here," again noting a spot on the map, "the sub will be there for two days, from the 14th through the 16th. If you cannot make the pickup by that time, Saunders will contact us to arrange another try. Here is the file, Lieutenant. Oh, by the by, Garrison, Saunders is an art collector with some very fine pieces; I expect his collection to be intact after your departure, do I make myself clear? Right down to the last stickpin, snuffbox and Borgia ring!"

The look in Richards face showed he was quite sincere, and Garrison could hardly blame him for making the point. His guys were occasionally 'collectors' themselves. He thought of Goniff and that silver cigarette case, those mischievious, pious, and oh so (in)sincerely repentent blue eyes, and gave a silent chuckle.

They all had gone over the material time and time again, the file, their tentative plan, though, as usual, Garrison holding back information he felt they just didn't need to know, their specific destination for example or the name of their host, especially anything about that art collection. Well, he doubted any of them had ever heard of Andorra in the first place, though he did spare a thought that Actor, that well-traveled con man, just might; he'd actually told them 'Spain' when they'd asked, figuring that would place things in their minds well enough, Andorra being a tiny state nestled between Spain and France.

"We'll leave the other details til we get there; well, it can all change once we get a good look at the setup."

Goniff's suggestion that they start carrying a twig and a tiny pouch of dirt just in case the Warden needed to make revisions had gotten a stern glare from Garrison, and a snicker from the guys. Casino was already thinking that would make a great gag birthday present, maybe all in an ornamented matchbox tied up in a pretty red ribbon.

Up to London, then to the port to board the submarine, Goniff complaining about the smell and the air and the motion, all as his complexion shifted from its normal pale to one even more pale but with a decidedly green tinge. They were almost to their destination when they felt the submarine come to a slow halt, and Garrison had an uneasy feeling when the commander requested his presence in the tiny office that constituted command center on Ursa.

"Lieutenant, it appears your mission has been scrubbed. We've been ordered to return immediately. Your superiors will give you the details, I'm sure; I'm afraid they've not shared them with me." Garrison was totally in the dark, but went back to share the news with his men.

Goniff was not thrilled to have another long submarine ride without even a break, Actor was rather bemoaning the fact that "I knew a most beautiful Countess once who had a villa in Bilbao; I was rather looking forward to renewing the acquaintance," getting scoffs from Casino and Chief, as it appeared Actor knew a 'most beautiful' woman WHEREVER they were headed. Goniff was, by now, too seasick to comment.

 

*

Kevin Richards was not a happy man. He was not happy to have expended resources unnecessarily, he was not happy being left to deal with mysterious happenings, he was not happy to know they had a traitor, well at least one, in a position of influence, one who was, as well, nigh on untouchable; he was in particular not happy with knowing he had almost been tricked into causing the rather vile deaths of the men on this team. The thought of a certain young woman being privy to lines of information that he himself was not privy to didn't particularly thrill him either, even if that had been the only reason this whole disaster had come around as well as it had. And the realization that absolutely nothing could be done to punish the guilty, to prevent them from committing other such dastardly acts, frankly, that just pissed him off!

Garrison and his men had been received at HQ, but sent back to the Mansion, being told they would be debriefed there. That was hardly standard procedure, but getting back to their routine was many times better than sitting around HQ on hard chairs waiting for the powers-that-be to release them.

The bottle of very good Scotch slapped down on the big round table told them something was definitely up; Major Richards had gained a healthy respect for the team but was not likely to want to socialize with them. They watched as he poured a very generous slosh into each of the mismatched glasses, poured an equal amount into his own glass and heaved a deep sigh.

"Very well, this is very awkward and quite embarrassing, I must admit, but I do ask that you hold any outbursts til I've finished." He frowned, sighed again, and made the necessary beginning, though he did dread it. "The mission was a trap, designed for one purpose, to capture you and your men, Lieutenant. Well, perhaps two purposes, since the man who planned it was getting a rather nice sum of money for delivering you into the hands of Geoffrey Saunders."

Garrison snapped out, with a heavy frown, "a trap. Why? What did this Saunders want with us? I presume you mean us specifically, not just any Special Forces team?"

"Oh, yes, you and your team most specifically. Do you remember your meeting at the home of Lord Dudley?" He got a puzzled nod. "Well, at that meeting, it appears there was to have been a second meeting, between a pair of fifth columnists and their contact; it appears you were mistaken for that contact. They either did or said something, or perhaps you did; however, it caused grave concern that you would become suspicious, and they were determined to eliminate you."

Actor frowned, "Craig, those two 'accidents' you experienced after that meeting; perhaps they were not accidents after all."

Richards nodded in agreement, "exactly. And when those accidents were unsuccessful in eliminating you, the two conspirators went to their master and confessed the mixup and their failure to eliminate you. By some very odd coincidence, there was a housebreaking at Lord Dudley's estate immediately thereafter; both his valet and his butler were killed by the intruders, supposedly while interrupting the theft of a very valuable painting. They, of course, were the conspirators, and their master, NOT Lord Dudley in case you were wondering, was cleaning up the mess they'd left behind. That left him with you, Lieutenant, and the slight chance you might put all the pieces together. It appears he does not like to take chances, even the slightest ones."

"So, this 'master'. He rigged a mission? Just who in hell is he, that he could pull something like that off? Sure as hell couldn't have been easy!" Garrison demanded.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you who he is, Lieutenant." He had to wait for awhile for the noise to settle down.

"Yes, well, I never expected you to be pleased about that," he admitted.

"Anyway, the information was fed to us, the mission put into play. It was only after you had left, but fortunately before you reached your destination, that word was brought to me of the real intention. And don't ask me how she found out, or what brought her into the matter in the first place; I haven't the slightest idea, and probably will sleep better if I don't know."

Actor raised his brows, "she?" only to get a slightly disgusted look from Major Richards.

"She. Meghada O'Donnell, the Dragon, has sources I cannot begin to imagine, and tends to get involved in a surprising number of things you'd never expect her to."

That led to a quiet exchange of looks between the team, Goniff was wearing one of his most 'just ignore me, I aint even 'ere' looks about him; his torn thumbnail was now of great concern to him, by the attention he was giving it.

Richards poured out another round, and continued the story. "The General was never headed for Andorra; he was in Berlin all the time and had no plans to leave; indeed, I doubt he would have been permitted to leave; it seems Hitler has become a bit suspicious of the good General's loyalty, and you know where that tends to lead. Saunders was, however, expecting other guests. He has little parties, from time to time, and likes to provide entertainment tailor-made to their interests. The guests pay for the privilege of attending, of course, quite handsomely; I gather it would take several years of my annual income to acquire an invitation, along with at least two acceptable references. The one in charge, here, had attended one or two of those parties, and reached out to offer to provide Saunders with access to such entertainment, something promising to be rather tantalizingly different, in return for a sizeable amount of Swiss francs, along with an invitation, with special privileges, to the festivities."

Actor had just lost two shades of color, not at all a usual occurrence for the unflappable con man. "Andorra, then, not Spain precisely. Saunders. I do not know the name. However, his estate, would it perhaps outside El Serrat, a place called Estado de Deliciosis Diversiones?" Richards looked at Actor, surprised at that guess.

"Yes, you have heard of it?"

Actor swallowed harshly, took a quick swallow from his glass, emptying it, reaching for the bottle to pour another measure into his glass; his hand was shaking visibly. That got a few raised brows, Actor being the most self-controlled of any of them, other than Chief.

"Yes, Major, I've heard of it, being as how I have traveled extensively in Spain and France; most who travel in that area have heard the stories, are given the warnings. So, we were to be the entertainment. And, I presume, like all the other entertainers who have reputedly gone before, we would have eventually been deposited in some deep cavern or a common grave somewhere?"

"Yes, I have no doubt that was the intent."

The other men exchanged puzzled, wary glances. Garrison wasn't really sure he wanted the answer to the question on everyone's mind, well, except for Actor who seemed to already know that answer and being none too happy about it.

Still, the words came reluctantly to his mouth, "and the type of entertainment we were to provide?" and he could tell Richards really did not want to answer that question. A long pause, and Richards tipped the bottle once more round the table, including over his glass, taking a long drink.

"Saunders caters to the devotees of various rather odd cults, though I am not sure he is a believer in any of them, so much as he is a skilled and prolific highly specialized businessman. He also extended invitations and opportunities to individuals with tastes similar to Gilles de Rais and Albert Fish and others of that sort. He has a small theatre on his estate, where he reputedly stages, well, 'spectacles'. His guests could, for an added price, participate instead of being mere observers."

Goniff started to ask a question, but Garrison cut him off harshly, "Goniff, believe me, you do NOT want to know!" Garrison had gone a few shades whiter himself; both names were known to him.

He looked at each of his men; his cheeky mischievious little pickpocket, his painfully reserved young wheel man, his brusque wisecracking safecracker who used that manner to hide a softer side few ever saw, his sophisticated knowledgeable con man; thought of each of them in such a situation, saw himself there as well, himself actually being the ultimate cause for them being there, and seriously wanted to throw up. He took another sip of the whiskey, and something in his face made those three, not knowing the cause, take another helping themselves.

"So, somehow she got wind of this, and what? Came to you to try and stop it all before it was too late?"

"Exactly, and if I've ever seen her angrier, I don't know when. Though, I'm not sure angry is the right word, you know. Face like ice, fully befitting her nickname, and with a cold fury in her eyes like I've never seen. She had some of the pieces of the puzzle, not all, though I doubt that will be the case for long. She is an extremely determined young woman when she chooses to be. If we had been unable to recall the submarine, I imagine she would have thought of something else to accomplish the same goal, you and your team back here safely."

Garrison snarled, "I want the name, Major, the one who put the whole thing in play. The one who was sending us to Saunders," but that got just a shake of his head.

"No, Lieutenant, I won't tell you that. Please understand; I DO know what is going through your mind. It is all too easily to visualize, both what was intended and what YOU are intending. However, I have no intention of putting you in a position of extracting vengence, or ever even being suspected of thinking about doing so. No matter how much we know, there is no evidence to bring him to trial and convict him, and he is so situated that any movement against him would bring not only wide-spread outrage but disasterous results for you and your men." No matter how they yelled, Richards was adamant, and left with them in a holy turmoil.

Chief surprised them by demanding Actor and Garrison tell them what THEY knew that the others didn't, and Casino and Goniff agreed. The two refused, adamantly, and all Actor would say was, "let us just say that we all would have died unbelievably horrific deaths, and would have prayed for the end long before it was granted to us." Garrison had just nodded grimly. While that didn't appease them, they each spared a thought that perhaps Garrison was right, perhaps they really didn't want anything more specific.

"What caused you to become suspicious?"

Garrison had made a trip down to the Cottage the next morning, only to find it empty. It was a week later when he saw signs of activity, (specifically a sign as in his pickpocket climbing in through the library window at 4am with a wide lazy grin on his face and an equally lazy "ei, Warden, lovely night aint it?), stopped to ask the questions that had been burning in him since Richards' visit.

He got a shrug, "I have friends, some in some very odd places, Lieutenant. And, quite frankly, I and my family have what you might call 'watching briefs', lists of names, places that are of interest. It is a rather lengthy list, as you might imagine, for we are a large family with wide concerns. You and your team, for a number of reasons, you are on that list, both individually and as a unit; well, that should hardly come as a surprise. Andorra is also on that list because of its reputation. The merging of two items from the lists is always noteworthy; ANYTHING merging with Andorra particularly so. This set off any number of flashing red lights; it was immediately brought to my attention, and I made a few calls to other of my friends, and your mission came to light."

"Yes, I am well aware of how HQ would feel about me obtaining such information; I am not particularly interested in their opinion, I must tell you. Their interests and mine frequently are, well, not in perfect accord."

He thought of what he should say, as an officer; thought about what her complex network had prevented, might prevent again, and refrained. She smiled at him, somewhat grimly, as if knowing what was going through his mind. He pressed, but like Major Richards, she refused to name names.

"Although I will say that General Wattley is looking for a new Aide de Camp; his previous one was not involved in the plot against you, but that enterprising young man is the one who was supposed to receive that invitation that was so mistakenly issued to you; he is also a tall slender blond man of a like age. The War Office is involved in explaining to him the error of his ways, I should imagine. But as for the other one, no, Lieutenant; his name you do not need to know; it is far too dangerous for you or your men to know. Rest assured, it is unlikely he will make any other such attempts. In fact, I can practically guarantee that he's quite lost the motivation." He got no further information from her, and he returned to the Mansion tight lipped with frustration.

He pulled in, surprised to see Kevin Richards' driver leaning against the door of a car smoking a cigarette.

"He's inside," he was told laconically, "waiting for you. Not in a particularly good mood, though I've seen worse." Garrison went in, found Richards in the map room.

"Lieutenant Garrison."

"Major Richards." Richards accepted an offer of coffee, seemed reluctant to get to the purpose of his visit.

Finally, "I am told you and your men have been here for the past several days. Is that correct?"

Garrison raised his brows, "yes, except for a couple of trips to the pub in the village. We've been on standby status."

Richards looked at him long and hard, then sighed, "yes, well, I really don't see how you could have gotten the information anyway. Only a bare handful, not even that really, knew and none would have been so reckless as to share the information with you or your men." That got him a raised brow of inquiry, and Richards pulled out a newspaper clipping.

"This appeared in this morning's paper. It's not particularly accurate, which is only to be expected, although the final determination of death is, of course. I made sure of that personally."

Garrison read it through, his brows almost reaching his hairline at the name of the deceased. It was frankly unbelievable, if what Richards seemed to be implying was true; the name was almost as recognizable as the Prime Minister's or one of the royal family.

"This says he died of heart failure."

Richards looked even more remote and thoughtful, "well, when it comes down to it, doesn't everyone die of heart failure, ultimately, I mean? What the newspaper does not say, what very, very few know, is that his 'heart failure' resulted from his brandy being tampered with - some sort of fish venom, if you can believe that! Tetrodotoxin, they call it. His valet is swearing he found the man dead, sitting in his chair, glass still in his hand, so it must have been a rather potent dose, usually there being other, rather messy, symptoms to deal with, which there weren't in this case. We had gone to make some polite inquiries, found the valet busily cleaning out the safe and bundling up various little treasures before making his departure, obviously intending for someone else to 'discover' the body."

"Questioning revealed his employer had been highly apprehensive due to a recent business dealing that had somehow gone quite wrong - a sale of goods where payment had been made and received, but goods not delivered - he was concerned his business associate might have taken offense, and had been making plans for an extended vacation, location unknown to the valet. The valet also spoke of a visitor the evening before, very melodramatic, clad in a hooded cape worn low enough he could not see their face; he claims he is even unsure of whether it was a man or a woman, no words were spoken and the hand that gave him the card of introduction was clad in leather gloves so there was no clue there. His employer had him usher the guest in, then sent him off to finish some work in the office, told him they were not to be interrupted. When he heard the front door close, he went to see if anything more was needed, and found, well, you know what he found. We can only assume his business associate had indeed taken offense."

"The valet is being held on a wide variety of charges; it seems he was our gentleman's 'odd-job man', I suppose you could say. In charge of 'tidying' things up, like those two conspirators up at the manor house. We found the painting that was supposedly stolen on display in the library."

Garrison had a very odd look on his face, "and do you go along with all that? That it was Saunders, or someone sent by him?"

Richards was staring off into thin air, not looking at Garrison, "I am assuming that as well, Lieutenant and I strongly suggest you do as well. A tidy end to a most untidy affair. He should have appreciated that; I've heard it said that he was a most tidy man, rather fanatical about it actually."

 

*

Over the past week Casino, Chief and Goniff had each taken the opportunity to search the library for any reference to those two men Richards had mentioned, but Albert Fish hadn't been listed, the reference encyclopedias being rather old, and they couldn't figure out how the other would be spelled, though they'd tried various combinations. Chief had secretly wondered if Goniff had happened across it by accident though, because after one episode of searching the little Cockney had spent a goodly amount of time vomiting up his socks; however Goniff had claimed it was that handful of berries he'd snatched from the woods,"just weren't ripe enough, I guess." However, Goniff had led the conversation when they had talked it over and each were now of the opinion that Garrison had been correct, they really did not want to know.

The mood lightened when Chief told Casino and Actor, "don't think any of us will complain bout the two of them being together, not after this." He'd gotten solid agreement from Casino and Actor. Chief then gave them a severe look, "dont mean we dont still trade off sharing rooms with him when she's around!" and Casino was the first to laugh, then Actor, with Chief finally joining in, with Goniff merely grinning and wriggling his eyebrows. Actor and Casino were both sure Chief was just overreacting, though they each had some level of curiosity.

Down in the Cottage, the mood was more somber than usual.

"Maxie 'ad the right of it, you know," he said, "Stepping in between, it's dangerous, in all kinds a ways."

She nodded most seriously, "yes, it can be. It can sometimes be even more dangerous not to step in between, and I truly don't think I am capable of that anyway, not when your life's at stake, laddie. You are important to me, far too important to hold back when I can make a difference, especially in something like that. You are important to me; the others are important to me as well," and trailed her fingers along his jawline.

He nodded back at her, "I know that; know I'm ruddy lucky, them too." After awhile he asked, "you would 'ave done the same for the guys, the Warden. For Ainsley and 'is men too? Any of the teams?" It was important to him that she said Yes; that she loved him, had set the watching briefs, had done this for him, that meant more than he could say, but he still needed to know how deep her humanity ran, perhaps because more and more he found himself wondering about that in himself.

"For the guys, yes, certainly, and for Garrison. You know, I took them under my eye in the beginning because their welfare was linked to yours; later, under my wing, since they had become so much more to you, and then to me as well. For Ainsley and the others, yes, I would have done the same, IF I'd found out in time, laddie. The problem is, I doubt I would have. Those on the Family and Friends list, those are watched for, and our people do the best they can, and I have added Ainsley and the others to the list now, but the more we add, the slower the processing of the data; perhaps someday there will be a method for sorting vast amounts of information and we will be able to stretch our capabilities, but for now it is all dependent on the limited number of eyes and ears of those who do the watching and listening. Not to mention the obvious fact that not all even COMES to our attention. And it is a great puzzlement to me, that in the Outlanders' world, for every pocket of evil that is rent and destroyed, it seems six spring forth; and for every one of bad intent who is brought low, a full dozen move quickly to take their place." And he accepted the sad reality of that, reassured in her, but knowing she couldn't be watching over everyone, everything.

Richards had stopped by the Cottage on his way back to London, and was given a glass of decent bourbon. He said very little to begin with, then related what he'd told Garrison. They sat looking at each other, a faint smile growing in those silver-grey eyes, the gold-brown ones.

"A hooded cloak, heavy gloves, the silent handing over of a calling card, a vial of fish poison, how very melodramatic," she mused, "probably those items are at the bottom of the river or in an ashpit somewhere by now. If not, they should probably end up there sometime quite soon."

He nodded in agreement, "yes, that would seem most likely. If not already, then quite soon." And the smiles now came to their lips, and no matter the differences between them, there was something of a similarity now. It was probably best Garrison wasn't around to see that; he already had enough questions, enough speculation; he didn't really need any added elements. One last drink, one last salute, "to Justice, and to Friends," and they parted company, amazingly content with each other for once. It wouldn't last, not once Richards strayed into his interference again, but in some things, well, in some things their minds walked the same road.

 

*

It didn't make the English newspapers, only the Spanish ones, and then only the ones in a fairly close geographical area. Still, the clipping somehow made its way to the Mansion.

Actor translated, "an explosion and fire at Estado de Deliciosis Diversiones, just at the outskirts of El Serrat, destroyed the primary buildings. The owner, an Englishman of long residence, Geoffrey Saunders, was among the seven who perished. While the other six, all long-time employees, died in the explosion and resultant fire, Senor Saunders apparently died after a spiked metal mechanism of some sort in the specially-built theatre collapsed onto him, transfixing him to the floor in several places. The purpose of the mechanism has so far puzzled the investigators. The coroner was unable to determine whether he had still been alive when the flames reached him or if he had died of his injuries beforehand. The stables were also destroyed, although fortunately the many fine Arabian horses owned by Senor Saunders were found roaming the surrounding hills, without so much as a hair being singed."

"The estranged son of Geoffrey Saunders and Amilita Albiferia Saunders (dec'd) has placed the property up for sale; however, due to the many dire stories emanating from the Estado, it is certain he will wait long for a buyer. When asked about the stories, Leland Saunders reportedly said, "My mother sent me away to make my home with friends shortly before her tragic death in a fall from the cliffs; I was barely five years old and have had no contact with my father since; to my knowledge, he was unaware of my continued existence. However, my father was a very unusual individual with very unusual interests, as well as very unusual friends and associates; I would not tend to discount any stories whatsoever." When asked whether such a statement might not discourage potential buyers, Senor Saunders shrugged and resignedly stated, "if it does not sell immediately, I will let most of the property go fallow, have the land cleared where the buildings stood and then seeded in salt and lime, and left to recover its virtue. I do not expect that to be a quick process. Perhaps in another hundred years, it can be put to honorable use again. After all, the property has been in my mother's family for many generations; perhaps a future generation will make their place there."

Actor looked thoughtful, "well, I certainly do not intend making an offer!" and after getting horrified looks from the others at the joke, a slight smile quirked up the side of his mouth. "I imagine few others will either," getting a solemn nod from each.

When the subject came up again the next day, Goniff looked thoughtful, "I'm glad the 'orses got out, and those dogs too; they weren't part of any of that," and Chief agreed, though he had given Goniff a quick glance and the pickpocket turned his attention quickly to his torn fingernail.

"Pity about the art collection, of course," Actor mused, "I understand there was a rather exquisite Pisano, among others almost as worthy."

Garrison sent a measuring glance around the table; he'd been in Norway on a solo mission for the three weeks surrounding the date shown on that clipping. Surely they couldn't have . . . .

He blinked rapidly, {"I really have to start getting more sleep! Doc Riley keeps telling me lack of sleep can lead to some very strange thoughts! But, did the clipping give any details about the collection? And horses, yes, but did it say anything about dogs???!"} He thought to check, but by then the clipping had disappeared, and no one seemed to know anything about its whereabouts, and Goniff had just blinked at him, confused, when he'd questioned him on his statement.

"Said it yourself, Warden, clear as anything. 'Orses and dogs got clean away." The other men agreed, and Garrison shrugged it off.

Actor had calmly told him, "the collection was rather well known, Craig; the contents hardly a secret to anyone with an interest in art."

When he double-checked with Sergeant Major, he was told, "well, was off to London for a few days, just four, answering to HQ for some foolishness on the part of the Base Supply Chief and others. Private Jenkins wouldn't 'ave let them go tolling off by themselves, though; 'as a good 'ead on 'is shoulders, you know that; did well with them before for a longer period of time."

When they asked Private Jenkins, they got a wide-eyed look, and an earnest, "oh, no nonsense from them. A trip to the pub that Tuesday, regular routine; even helped with some chores they weren't obliged to. No problem out of them at all, sirs."

After the officer and non-com went back to the office, Jenkins tilted his head to the side and wondered, {"just what DID they get up to, them and the miss? Well, probably best I don't know,"} with a shrug. Whatever, he knew she meant well by them, and them by her, and them all meaning well by the Lieutenant, so couldn't have been anything too dire. One thing he knew for sure, everyone was better off without officers knowing all that went on.

 

*

The remarkable collection of art that was discovered by Leland Saunders in a field cottage at the Estado did indeed include a Pisano, as reported in the newspapers. It made headlines again when he arranged for the sale of the collection in its entirety, except for a few pieces which dated from his maternal grandfather and greatgrandfather's time, and immediately donated the vast proceeds to various charities, many of which provided for those left homeless and destitute from the war.

The article quoted Saunders as saying, "they were purchased and collected with ill-gotten monies; it is only fitting their sale should go to benefit good works. It is perhaps not perfect Justice, but it was the best I could think of. I certainly wanted none of them; I doubt I could abide the stench." The newspapers added a footnote that 'Senor Saunders assured us that the grounds have indeed started a purification process, and the horses and dogs and other livestock have been transported to a location where they will be given good care. He seemed most insistent upon that point, and gave the interview only if we included that statement within, as well as the capitalization of the word 'Justice'. We, of course, honored his wishes."

Obviously the writer was a little confused at that being a requirement for an article about fabulous art work and great sums of money, but had shrugged and agreed. It hadn't hurt his story, even if he didn't see the relevance.

Actor translated that clipping at dinner, Garrison somewhat relieved at that mention of dogs, for some reason he couldn't quite figure out. Other than for the dogs' sake, of course.

Later in the Dorm Room in the darkness, Chief softly said to Goniff, "never seen you pass up on doing a little shoppin," getting an equally soft, "was right, you know, what that bloke said. Nothing there I'd 'ave wanted anything to do with; doubt the smell would've ever worn off. Wouldn't want to be one a those buying any of it either!"

Casino looked over, puzzled, "smell? Didn't notice any smell."

Actor spoke up, "he is right, Casino. The smell of so much blood and pain and death, it does not fade so easily. It may not be apparent to the nose, but still, the scent remains. Something of the spirit, perhaps, like with the funerary spoils from the Egyptian gravesites."

Casino shrugged, {"sometimes I think these guys think too much!"} He rolled over and went to sleep, and they followed suit.

Down in the Cottage, the redhead stared at the ceiling from where she lay. Saunders and the Estado - it had been a place of evil for a long time, but there were many places of evil in the Outlanders world, and it was not the job of the Clan to go about cleansing them willy nilly. Still, when one of the places of evil, when one of the makers of evil sought to involve the Clan, Theaghlach Cara, that could not be overlooked, could not be forgiven.

She'd not intended to involve them, had intended to deal with Saunders herself, but had walked in on them in the middle of their own planning session, and they would not be dissuaded. They had chided her, most sternly, when they realized her intentions, but as she had explained rather apologetically, she was accustomed to being alone in her endeavors. They had nodded, for it was much the same for each of them, before they had formed this brotherhood. Well, it seemed they weren't alone anymore, and neither was she, though that was an odd thought and one that would take some getting used to on all their parts. Truly it would be an easier task with all of them involved, but getting them away without repercusions took some thought.

It had taken some tricky manouevering, her asking them to come help her with some heavy and tedious things at the cottage in the presence of Private Jenkins - Jenkins, not Sergeant Major since he was in London for a few days, much to their relief (and Meghada's appreciation for the 'request' one of the Friends had managed to set in place). Their arrival early the next morning at her Cottage followed by the quick car run to where the plane was waiting, the job, the quick return.

Her apologies to Jenkins for keeping them not only just one day but the night and most of the next day, her hint it would be a favor if he didn't mention that, as she was sure she'd get scolded; she assured him she'd taken good care of them, though, and he was sure of that, they were tired but seemingly in good spirits if somewhat subdued.

She wasn't quite sure how Saunders had died. Well, yes, she'd come in quickly from the room where those obscene journals were kept, the ones she needed to be sure were destroyed, when she heard the crash, saw his body sprawled beneath that, that THING. Their faces had been stern, cold, as the face of a judge handing down a death sentence to one who well deserved it. They didn't look up to see her for some time, then they did, and their heads went stiff and stern, challenging her to condemn their actions. Well, how could she do that? Would she have done anything different?

She'd looked down solemnly, then walked around the circle, around that monsterous spiked and hooked metal device, around that body, touching each one in comfort, in understanding and approval, then "there's more to do here, my dears. This place needs to be burnt to the ground. Actor, can you and Goniff and Casino see to getting the artwork to safety? I spotted an outbuilding far enough away; use the jeep; it may take several trips. Chief, can you help me with the barns? There are horses and other livestock there. And there are two little dogs in the main house we need to get away; I don't know they played any part in what happened here - they were in the servants quarters, not the master's, so I'm hoping not."

It appeared the servants came in from the neighboring villages, as there had only been Saunders and the four men and two women in the rooms nearest to him. The decorations in the room, the journals had condemned them as surely as the ones in the master's rooms had condemned Saunders. She had been relieved; it was much less complicated without Innocents being involved. She took that book of 'guests' and 'entertainers'; there might be those who needed to be notified; there would certainly be those who warranted keeping an eye on. Anyone participating in such vileness might easily go searching for other sources, might try to replicate such; the Clan needed to be aware of that, for the good of those it cared for. But for now, her treasure was here, safe, and she could rest for the moment, gather her strength for the next battle.


End file.
